Beneath the Sleeping Moon - A Prologue
by Six-string Samurai
Summary: Continuation from Ending D. A new beginning carries the scars of the past as life moves ever on. Some wishes are granted, but perhaps better left unfulfilled. A series of vignettes forming the beginning of a larger narrative.
1. For Want of a Sword

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

_Everything began and ended with a single sound, barely a whisper, a hint of steel dancing through motes in a ray of sunlight. Dreams and desires all changed in that moment of time, to be forgotten from one beat of the heart to the next. There had been something very special, a warmth that lingered in the fingertips only to become the memory of a memory._

* * *

Beneath the Sleeping Moon - For Want of a Sword

* * *

Kainé hefted the blade, testing the weight and balance, giving it an experimental swing. The deadly length of steel glittered in the afternoon sun, casting bright reflections along the merchant stalls nearby. Satisfied with the quality, the itinerant swordswoman tossed a small leather pouch onto the wooden counter next to the blacksmith. It landed with a heavy clunk, the bottom pooling out from the amount of coin within. "It's what we agreed on, and then some. Count it if you want, but I'm not sticking around this damn place longer than I have to," the pale woman groused.

The blacksmith boggled when he checked the coin purse, doing a quick calculation in his head, and checking it against a ledger beneath the counter. He flashed Kainé a grin, "Your business is always appreciated, Miss. If there is any problem with that sword, please don't hesitate to return, and I'll take care of it." Before he could get another word in edgewise, his customer slid the blade back into its sheathe with a sharp click of metal on metal that was loud enough to interrupt any further pleasantries.

Turning away in clear dismissal, Kainé strode off, incidentally giving the man a near unimpeded view of her toned posterior. Her presence in Seafront, or any of the local habitations, tended to turn heads, and pull in wandering eyes. Not that she thrived on the attention, but she had her reasons for dressing the way she did, though her choice in garments was less risque than it once had been.

If it had been up to her, she would have steered well clear of the coastal town, but she'd lost one of her favorite blades two days ago. Not that she wasn't capable of managing with one sword. It didn't take much to carve up the smaller shades that had been cropping up around her camp, though she felt unbalanced with only one blade strapped to her hip. Her patience had lasted most of one day, before the feeling drove her here to the closest decent market.

Seafront was a cozy little town by all accounts, but unlike the pastoral village where Yonah lived, this place was lively in comparison. Certain times of the month, the streets and alleys were peppered with sailors, fishermen and merchants from across the sea. Too many people, and too many potential irritants for her taste. She tended to keep visits to a minimum, if at all. In fact, she didn't even recall the last time she'd been out this way. There simply wasn't usually reason to head south past Emil's manor.

_Emil_, the name struck a sour chord in her mind. She'd all but given up the boy for lost, after his valiant sacrifice enabled her to defeat the Shadowlord. Two months, and word began to spread. None of it had reached her firsthand, though people talked readily enough. Rumors of a grinning skull rolling along the dunes near Facade were too eerily descriptive to be readily dismissed. But, the desert wasn't a particularly endearing place in the best of times. Like the remains of her hometown, Kainé had little desire to stir up unwelcome memories.

Besides, it was a long way on foot, as the shorter route by ferry boat had been denied her once she'd returned from the Shadowlord's castle. Apparently, the sudden disappearance of Popola and Devola had caused quite a stir in the village. With the twin bitches gone, the townsfolk had seen fit to push Kainé away once more. The goodwill she'd engendered had long since dried up, and that extended to the local ferryman. Yonah's return meant little in the grand scheme of daily life, which had moved on in the intervening five years that the girl had been captive.

All of it did little to change Kainé's opinion of the villagers. She only bothered to keep her camp close enough to the place so she could check in on the ill teenager. Anything more was too much trouble to bother with. That included chasing rumors, which was no better than chasing ghosts, and she had little stomach for either. On the other hand, if there were sufficient proof...

She let the thought wander and lose itself in the twists and turns of her melancholy. The streets drifted by in a haze as her sandal clad feet carried her back out into the narrow pass that barred casual entry into the town. As with her garb, she'd taken to donning more practical footwear, the thin leather straps adorning her feet had been a gift from Yonah not too long ago. There was some intrinsic sentimental value that she couldn't quite place, when she'd received the sandals.

The younger woman hadn't offered up an explanation, aside from a heartfelt thanks to Kainé for making the effort to gather the necessary herbs to craft a painkilling medicine that Yonah requested from time to time. Even the stubborn swordswoman had to admit, to herself, that the sandals were far more comfortable than her heels had been. Besides, minor aches and pains, things like blisters, didn't heal as quickly as they once did. In freeing the girl from her imprisonment, much had been lost that she valued. The exchange for freedom had been a high price for everyone concerned. It was a price paid in blood and spirit both.

Life was hard, she knew that well enough. Dying was easy. It happened too frequently to think otherwise. An escape from the daily toil and trial of simply drawing breath. One that she flirted with perhaps too often, though it wasn't so cut and dry. Life was also complex, people more so. She'd saved the princess, and what was her reward? Weariness. But also, a faint sense of hope, and the beginnings of acceptance. For now, she mused, that would have to be enough.

Kainé felt her lips turn up into a nasty smirk as the first of the shades appeared in the glade ahead as she left the confines of the pass. Their chittering speech was rendered gibberish to her ears, another loss, but not one so great that she gave it much thought. There was a virgin blade to bathe after all, and talking was meaningless. The shades certainly didn't care to mince words, as they attacked the moment enough of their bodies had solidified. Naked steel flashed as she drew her unspoiled blade in one hand, and the heavy saw-toothed sword in the other. Grinning despite her earlier dour mood, she sprinted forth, rushing to deliver final death to the souls that sought to do battle.


	2. Those that Reached

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

_Dreams. Dreaming. Coming home. It was familiar landscape, one seen a thousand times in the window of her heart, as she'd slept. The reality of it thought, was different. Diffuse where it should have been solid. Ephemeral, escaping her attempt to pin down what was wrong. That was the sense she had, like one of her eyes was perpetually covered. Half-blind, her waking life._

* * *

Beneath the Sleeping Moon - Those that Reached

* * *

The shadows stretched longer, gentle fingers that caressed the book cases lining the wall. A subtle reminder that the hour grew late. It wouldn't do to be up for too much longer, the young woman seated behind the antique desk thought as the silence was broken by the turning of another page. Despite the late hour, she wasn't the least bit tired, engrossed in the pile of book she'd chosen earlier in the week. A pile that swiftly dwindled. She'd missed so much, years of her life shaven off in the blink of an eye.

So, she pushed herself, devoured tome after tome in her spare hours, and they were all spare hours. There was little else for her to do. Which wasn't quite true, she'd seen plenty that she could help with in her better moments. However, the villagers would have none of it. They'd told her to rest, to keep up her strength as best she could.

She listened, and knew it wasn't so simple. They were afraid, well meaning, but fearful of the words that slept beneath her skin. Words that held no meaning but sickness and pain for those on which they were inscribed. The Black Scrawl, a death sentence that flowed across her skin, when she was weakest. Thankfully, she hadn't had a relapse since she'd awoken in the room at the top of the Shadowlord's castle. When she'd been saved, rescued by Kainé.

Brushing aside an errant lock of hair from her eyes, Yonah turned another page, humming strains of an old song as she read. She could do that much, she'd decided, as singing aloud was out of the question. Not here, where her voice would doubtlessly echo into the rest of the library. The bittersweet memories were too much for some of the older villagers, though the ones her age didn't quite seem to mind as much. It was Devola's song after all.

As it was, Yonah had already all but taken over the other twin's office. It was a comforting place, and she'd visited so often in the past that it felt like a second home. These days, it was more than that, she'd only begun to realize lately. She actually spent more of her waking hours here than anywhere else in the village. Popola's office was becoming Yonah's, bit by bit.

Even now, the desk and the chair still smelled of the missing woman. The subtle fragrance was like an embrace, a comfort she couldn't find anywhere else in the village no matter how she searched. The young woman fancied she could still hear Popola's voice, words spoken gently in her ear, continuing to teach Yonah about the mysteries hidden in the books and records. It made it hard to keep her eyes open, whether she was tired or not.

Instead, she chose to dream.

_Yonah_

.

..

_...__Yonah_

...

..."Yonah, wake your bony little ass up."

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, the young woman took a moment to drift back to reality. "Oh, good morning, Kainé," she fished the greeting out from the pond of sleep, as the face glaring down at her came into focus. A moment longer and she realized she must have fallen asleep reading, as her cheek was wet and there was an embarrassing spot of drool on the arm she'd been using as a pillow. Thankfully she hadn't slept directly on the open book her hand was resting on.

"Don't 'good morning me,' it's still the middle of the night. Unless I'm mistaken, we talked about this before. You can't just nod off wherever you goddamn feel like it. Especially not in here. Look, you're making a mess of yourself, and besides, it's not healthy. Or good for your back," the swordswoman frowned, not relenting in her admonishment, regardless of the hour.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose," Yonah wiped consciously at her cheek and started tidying up the desk where she'd been occupied for maybe a little too long it seemed.

"I don't care about that. Point is, if you're tired, go home. You've got a perfectly nice bed, use the damn thing once in a while," Kainé said, folding her arms under her breasts. She wasn't the girl's mother, so why did she have to deal with this? It was a simple question with a simple answer. There was no one else. She didn't care one lick about the fucking black scrawl, or the people in this shitty village. Yonah though, that was a little different. The wanderer felt some sense of responsibility she supposed, toward the pale teen. It was a mild thing, but if she really sat down and thought about it, she was left with almost nothing else to care about.

After Emil had lifted the petrification curse, running forward at full tilt toward an uncertain battle was all she'd done. She'd been driven, with a goal. Maybe it had been some form of revenge, for having five years stolen. Five years of protecting this shit hole, and not an ounce of gratitude to show for it. These people didn't care a lick for the sacrifice she'd made. Yonah though, that was different.

The girl, it was hard to think of her otherwise, though in fact there was only two years between them physically. Kainé hadn't aged past her seventeen years during the time she'd been frozen in stone, blocking off the horror locked in the library basement. Mentally, she felt the years slough away. Living a spartan life, and sleeping with a rock for a pillow and grass for a bed tended to wear you down like that.

Glaring at Yonah to chastise the girl, she knew the opposite was true. For while the pale girl's body had begun to blossom during her long sleep, she still saw the world through the eyes of a child. An outlook that was beginning to change, as Yonah struggled to swim against the tide of stolen years. Kainé could see it in the way the girl carried herself from one day to the next. Change was inevitable, even for one so cursed.

"The thing you're doing, is not getting your rear moving. Don't make me have to carry you. Neither of us wants that to happen, so move it."

Yonah colored at the threat, and stepped out from behind the big desk. Kainé had never followed through on that particular threat, but she had no doubt that the gruff woman would if push came to shove. She didn't relish the idea of being carted off like a sack of flour, in the middle of the night no less, though she supposed during the day would be even more mortifying. "I'm going," she smiled weakly, hoping to divert some of the taller woman's anger. Sometimes it worked, generally it backfired. It was a gamble she was willing to make, likely fueled by her sleep addled mind.

"You bet your ass you are."

The teen turned at the last moment as she cracked the door open, "Kainé?"

Arching a brow, the woman in question just continued fuming silently. After a second, she bothered acknowledging the lilt in Yonah's voice. "Yeah, what?"

"Why are you here at such a late hour?" The sudden thought had her curious enough to risk voicing it just then.

"I'll go wherever the fuck I feel like going. You're the one sleeping in a stupid place. You can bother me with details when you get your act together, how's that sound," Kainé countered, though her cheeks darkened and she shifted her gaze just for a moment before returning it full force. Despite how the girl looked, she was determined to treat her as she acted. On that count, Kainé was far from satisfied. Yonah needed to stand up for herself more. Who cares where she slept?

But if the girl was going to fold when Kainé pushed, she would keep doing it until the teen grew a spine, or snapped. Sick or not, Kainé wasn't the coddling sort. It wasn't the way her grandmother had raised her, and she was determined to keep that memory as fresh and alive as possible. It was hard, but less difficult now that her thoughts were hers alone. The snake that had constricted her heart was gone, and her body free of the taint it had brought.

"Thanks for caring, Kainé," Yonah said as her friend appeared caught up in her thoughts. It was becoming easier to see that behind the terrible words, Kainé wasn't unkind, though Kainé had clearly avoided answering her question directly. The swordswoman helped out, more than anyone else, and that meant a lot to Yonah. She'd find a way to pay her back, it would have to be something great. It was a thought she carried with her as she left the library, feelings in tow. Secure in the protection that followed in her footsteps as the tall warrior padded softly after with twin serrated swords glinting in the light of dusk.


	3. A Simple Task

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

_A hollow in the earth, swept clean of the anger, fear and hatred that had clogged it for so very long. Had it ever been home? Home had existed once. A small shack left to rot in a clearing not far off, the remains of a sacred place, the truth of which lay buried in her heart. Feelings untouched, covered in the grit and blood of recent memory, but slowly washed clean. She had death to thank for that too. Maybe that was the problem. What she was left with was time, and the blood on her hands. She'd known for a long time, what the shades haunting the world were. In the end, she was the monster they needed to fear. There was little solace in those words, and less strength to be drawn. What she had once been, was becoming undone._

* * *

Beneath the Sleeping Moon – A Simple Task

* * *

Recently, the weather had been more inconsistent that usual, and Kainé was forced to gather enough wood to feed a small fire to last for a few hours. She didn't care for the activity, as it brought up feelings, and worse...memories, which she kept locked down. Sometimes it was unavoidable to think of the past, and the hand axe which had stirred her heart lay discarded, buried halfway into the side of a nearby tree. Like the axe, she wanted to bury the hurt in her chest.

The passage of years had not healed this one wound, the responsibility she felt for her Grandmother's death. It ate at her, one tiny bite at a time. Guilt wasn't even the hardest to endure. The worst was that she couldn't even remember her Grandmother's face anymore. All that remained was some badly scrawled crayon drawing, a picture Kainé herself had done as a present.

It wasn't solid enough to be called a memory. No, all she really had left of the woman she considered family, was a lei of lunar tears, the bright white blossoms more than she could have asked for. That, and the sword and shield of words that the old woman had passed down. Barbed things that carved out a space for Kainé to claim for herself, to declare her existence to anyone and everyone she encountered. Her Grandmother's legacy, sharp words and pretty flowers. The contrast had never seemed so clear as it did in that moment, as the heat of the flames ticked her face.

Kainé sat in the center of her camp, surrounded by the few personal belongings she'd scraped together that very morning. It had been exhausting work, both physically and mentally draining her reserves. Hauling everything had been the easy part, as far as she was concerned. Digging through the shack for what she elected to keep, now that had been the true chore. For she was really saying a farewell to the place called home. Everything else was gone, and there was no reason to keep up appearances.

If she'd had Emil's power, she would have obliterated the little shack that remained from the face of the earth. Instead, it burned for a second and final time. No one else would be able to lay claim to the quiet vale, not in her lifetime at least. Nothing would be left but stinking ash and ruin. The oil she'd bought at no small cost hadseen to that.

On her way back across the northern plain, she'd turned back only once to look over her shoulder at the rising plume of dark smoke that poured out from the old gateway to the Aerie. She'd convinced herself it would be better not to look, but she wanted to see. She needed to know that it was done, and not some waking dream. The smoke made it real, a finality that she could accept. It was enough, it would have to be. Kainé didn't bother to think about the tears rolling down her cheeks, they were incidental, likely from the smoke.

That was hours ago, and she'd since set her heart once more, though the dancing flames were a harsh reminder, and might be so always. Jabbing the embers nearest her with a stick she'd selected for that very purpose, Kainé left her mind to wander down safer paths, turning ever toward the tiny village nestled in relative safety within the hills to her back.

Her camp was just beneath the remains of what had been a series of bridges spanning the plain, and much of the foundation stonework was sound. It made for decent shelter. Most of the smaller shades in the area had learned to avoid her immediate vicinity, and by extension the pass leading into the village that the warrior's presence now secured. Even that much went unappreciated by the townsfolk, though the guards at the northern gate did not take her for granted. Because of Kainé, they were given some reprieve, and in turn, allowed her to come and go as she felt the need, no matter the hour, though encouraged that the visits be kept brief.

Their goodwill was helped by the fact that she'd run errands for them on occasion, even going so far as to deliver a fragile package to the mayor of Aerie, though that was back when the city still existed. The favor was less relevant now, and may have been forgotten, though she remembered. How could she forget such a troublesome task that felt like it was only weeks, and not years, in the past? The memory was accompanied by a small sliver of doubt that she generally brushed aside as a side effect from being turned completely to stone.

The more she turned it over in her head, she still couldn't understand why she'd been to the village back then in the first place. It was a feeling that had been gnawing at her in the idle hours when she was left to her own. Rather than dwell on things she couldn't fix, Kainé trained her body instead. She'd lost her considerable edge over the shades, when Tyrran vanished, taking his power with him. Now, all that was left to her was hard earned muscle, and practiced skill with the blades at her side. Sweat was a far better distraction than tears, and far preferable.

Here, she could push herself. Torture her body that it would be forced to improve. Opponents were virtually endless, were she so inclined to scour the northern plains. The only problem she'd come across were the wild boars, which had taken up residence across the one working bridge. Challenging them head on was still beyond her current strength, but it was only a matter of time before she surpassed that limit too. Tomorrow, she might even try her luck again, once she was rested.

Unfortunately, she only met with restless dreams


	4. Clouds in the Water, an Interlude

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

Author's Notes: There is a lengthier, Mature, version of this chapter posted on AO3. The link to that site can be found through my profile page. I hope everyone enjoys this break from the main tale, whichever version they choose to read. Without further ado:

* * *

Beneath the Sleeping Moon – Clouds in the Water, an Interlude

* * *

It was hot, sweltering to be more precise. Kainé fanned herself as she walked, keeping close to the base of the cliffs that formed the boundaries of the northern plain. She crinkled her nose as a particularly unwelcome gust brought the scent of sheep dung along as it passed. It wasn't all that much of an improvement over her own pungent aroma. It _had_ been a while since she'd gotten around to giving her clothes a good scrub. Normally, she didn't think too much about it, being the sole keeper of her own company. She really hadn't needed Yonah's opinion on the matter, especially when the scrawny slip of a girl had compared her odor to the pigs that milled about near the village marketplace.

Of course, the pale teen had covered the barb with a bout of mirthful laughter, but it certainly struck home just the same. Kainé had made a show of sniffing herself and she knew it must have been pungent to anyone else, when her eyes watered up and she sputtered, spitting invectives at the musk from her armpits. Doubtless, it was even less pleasant elsewhere.

Having it brought to her attention in the manner it had was doubly irksome, and she'd considered tormenting Yonah with her continued presence in the small confines of the girl's house, but there was such a thing as too much, even the wanderer understood that. She'd excused herself and began the long trek towards the most secluded spot to bathe herself that she knew of in relatively easy walking distance.

Which led her to her current irritation, the heat radiating off the rocks coupled with the hot breeze had plastered her clothes to her skin, the thin cloth chafed and rubbed as she moved, doing nothing to improve her mood. "Fuck this," she muttered, wiping the sweat beading up on her brow. Not that using her forearm made a lick of difference as it too was already slick, and only served to move dirt from one place to another.

Trudging along, the swordswoman eventually reached the tiny trail running down along the rocks to the closed off lake below. It was little more than a goat path, and she had to take off her heeled shoes to ensure she didn't tumble ass over elbows on the way down. As in shape as she was, the fall would doubtless break one or more bones in the process, likely her neck with the way the morning had gone. "Damn it! Who the fuck decided to bake all the rocks!" Her voice echoed against the high walls of stone, and neither the cursed sun in the sky, nor the bushes, poking up here and there along the path, deigned to answer.

At the bottom, the clear blue waters of the lake stretched out for just over a hundred meters in each direction, at least where it didn't butt up against the high cliff towering above. The waters ebbed and flowed from the north east, where it had long ago tunneled down along the bottom of the ravine that cut through the plains. Honestly, it was barely large enough to be called a lake, and it was too deep in the center to be considered a pond. If the sun hadn't been almost directly overhead, she would have named it a grotto, but it was too bright for that, though portions of the water near the wall had worn a shadowy groove into the rock. It might qualify as a cave if one were really loose with the meaning of the word.

Whatever the place happened to truly be, it was much cooler down here, flush with sunlight or not. Shades had no place to exist in the luminous surroundings, and she doubted they would flock here even on an overcast day. By the same token, there was little to attract other animals, and people didn't risk encountering the armored shades that roamed the grassland between the village and this place just to take a swim. Besides, the lake within the village was more suitable, and had decent fish as well, even if safety wasn't the prime concern.

Ensured in her privacy, her weapons were first to be set aside, landing on the small shore with a thump that kicked up a small cloud of dirt. Next, her travel bag and shoes went in a pile nearby, topped with the sweat soaked garments as she peeled the thin layers off. Each piece landed with a wet slap in the heap. More importantly, she owed herself a dip.

Kainé stood there for a few seconds longer, hands on the slight swell of her hips as she eyed the water. It looked wonderful, glistening in the afternoon light. Despite the ridiculous heat of the day, she knew it was also damn cold, practically freezing. The thought of scrubbing herself raw was appealing, but she hated the initial shock of getting in. While she stood there, she unfastened the braided coil she kept her hair in, and relished the feeling of her hair as it cascaded down across her shoulders and almost halfway to the small of her back. She rarely let it loose, usually just to wash it, as free flowing it hampered her vision in a fight. Still, sometimes it felt good not to have it pulled so tight in the back. Stretching a bit, she turned her attention back to the blue waters.

Quashing the irrational fear of the cold, Kainé gave herself a running start, and no chance to debate, as she leaped from the shore, aiming for as close to the center of the water as she could get. As she'd predicted, the shock of contact kicked the breath from her lungs and she surfaced, gasping and cursing as her body shuddered from the abrupt temperature change. Forcing her legs to move, to kick and tread water, so she would remain afloat as her body adjusted. It took less time than she'd recalled before she was mildly comfortable. It wasn't quite as cold as she thought it would be, but that was likely due to the heat in the air.

Once she felt more relaxed, she made her way back to the shallows, easing her body out of the water to get at the bag she'd left on shore. Inside, she'd brought a variety of necessities, not least of which was two luxuries that she'd paid amply for in the Seafront market, a sea sponge and a rough chunk of soap made from volcanic ash. Both were expensive imports in their own right, and she'd had to barter handsomely for them. Soap and sponge in hand, she padded back into the water until she could sit and still be chest deep.

Lathering up the soap, she stood, scrubbing her limbs with the rough surface, scouring the dirt and sweat from her skin. Though she gave Yonah guff about needing to get more sun, Kainé was hardly much darker, even for all the time she spent outdoors. She had the beginnings of a tan, and it was all the more visible with her clothes removed. Distinct lines separated the flesh where the sun had kissed it, from where it was protected.

Given the nature of her preference in clothing, that area was mostly limited to her torso, which shone almost bright white in the sun drenched lake. Now that she no longer felt it necessary to hide the left side of her body, the restored flesh on her arm and leg roughly matched the skin tones of her long exposed right half. All of which was now bright red, courtesy of the exfoliating nature of the soapstone.

It felt worlds better already, to be so clean it nearly hurt. From there, she scrubbed her shoulders and more carefully the long nape of her neck, wringing out her hair and undoing the knots that had tangled up when her hair had been bound. Soaping up the sponge, she took care of her more sensitive areas, making sure to get every square centimeter as carefully as possible. The last thing she wanted was to neglect a spot and pay for it later.

Taking her time, Kainé soaked, relishing the sensation of a wholly clean body coupled with the cooling effect of the water. She floated there for a time, aimless and content in this small pleasure that she'd afforded herself. Her thoughts turned to Yonah, and what she owned the girl for being so up front with her. Not that the wanderer should have let herself get quite so filthy in the first place. Personal hygiene was more important for a person of her particular nature, more so than others. She knew that, but had been preoccupied lately, thinking only of besting that damned boar.

Kainé floated there for a while longer, contemplating what she might consider doing as a favor to Yonah. Hell, the girl probably could use a good scrubbing herself. And maybe a new perfume. Maybe a trip to the strange-thing shop in Facade was in order. The graveyard was on the way after all, and she needed to pay her respects, more than one were long overdue...which meant she needed to pick up something for Fyra, and the foolish King. Sighing, she let herself drift closer to shore. It was time to get out, she decided as the tips of her fingers felt wrinkly, the water around her clouded with the remnants of soap as she slid to shore.


	5. A Token in White

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

_Faint and fleeting, a single touch. Long curtains billowing in the soft breeze, soft sunlight that warmed the skin. A cherished thought, remembrance. A life reclaimed. _

* * *

Beneath the Sleeping Moon – A Token in White

* * *

Sounds from the village woke her, or it might have been the mouse scampering about in the kitchen. They had been a problem recently, mice, or so she'd heard. Yonah sat up in bed, fighting off a yawn. She certainly hadn't seen but one in the house, and rarely at that. Though the sound of little feet was sometimes a bother, it did make for a sense of company. Otherwise, her home was quiet, and a bit lonely if she was perfectly honest. A mouse couldn't talk back, after all.

Going about her morning rituals, she set about making herself a simple breakfast. Simple was good, she'd learned more recently, and she didn't have to force herself to choke anything down quite so often. Each meal brought a little more confidence, some more than others, and she'd stuck to the same ingredients, carefully experimenting until the results were edible and not just goat feed. Goats ate almost anything, she'd found, even burnt lumps.

Bread from the market and fruits from the garden outside were her mainstays, and didn't require much effort on her part, only careful handling of the kitchen knife. Cooking when she'd barely woken never ended well, she'd discovered.

Eating her fill, Yonah began tidying up when a coughing fit racked her thin frame. It was the first in several days, and caught her off guard, nearly doubling the young woman over. Catching herself on the counter, she gripped the wood until the fit subsided, leaving her breathless and sore. The last one hadn't been this bad, she thought, wincing. Taking a cup of water seemed to help, but she knew full well it was a weak reprieve.

Yonah didn't want to be sick. She'd held out a small hope back when she'd awoken in the Shadowlord's castle. A minor wish that the fates had granted her one thing, in exchange for such a long rest. Those same hopes had crumbled not soon after, when the cough returned the very next day. It was weak, almost dismissed as something else, a residue of sleep and dust from the long winding walk out of her prison.

Recovering herself, she finished up with the chores inside, and made her way out to sit in the sun out by the garden. She could see the waterwheel turning slowly on the edge of the lake from the hill where her house rested. It was soothing to watch it scoop and pour. Yonah imagined she could hear the creak of wood from where she sat, and it brought a smile to her lips. It was a nice view, and one she felt she'd never tire of.

Sitting there, she wondered if bringing a book from the library wasn't out of the question, though there was no one to ask anymore. That wasn't quite true, as she thought of the few people who frequented the stacks, all of whom were older than her, and likely candidates. Aside from the collection in Popola's old office, the villagers generally came and went with books as they pleased, and Yonah was no exception to the unspoken rule. However, since she'd returned and the twin caretakers of the village were nowhere to be found, the townsfolk had been less and less inclined to visit the library from what she'd noticed.

They appeared to be holding out some hope that either or both of the sisters would suddenly show up one day. Yonah too found it hard not to wake up to Devola's soft strumming down by the fountain. Climbing the stairs to the library likewise held some anticipation of finding Popola calming pouring over some record behind her desk. She'd screwed up enough courage to enter that familiar office once already since coming back, and no one had seemed to mind, or been around to care one way or the other. Maybe she would take another trip up there in the afternoon and fetch a book or two.

After all, Yonah knew neither of the twins would ever be returning. Kainé had told her as much, and she had no reason not to believe the woman who'd risked her life to save the imprisoned teen. Not that the older woman had been inclined to tell her the details, even when she asked. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been good, or a pleasant memory, for Kainé's face twisted nastily when she'd brought it up recently in the hopes of getting a straight answer.

Much of Kainé was a mystery to her. What she was thinking, why she never stayed long, and more importantly, the reason behind the villager's clear dislike of the woman. Yonah was indebted to the warrior, for more than being rescued, though that counted for so very much. It wasn't like she held her on some high pedestal though. Kainé's rough speech and insults prevented that sort of thing. She didn't mind too much, though, as the swordswoman rarely directed any vitriol toward her, reserving that for everyone and everything else. Yonah thought it must be exhausting to be that angry all the time, but then again, Kainé didn't seem so terrible on the inside. There had been no reward for saving her after all. Only the gratitude Yonah could provide.

Perhaps if the twins hadn't vanished, things would be different for the wandering woman. But, there wasn't a way to find that out for certain. Besides, Kainé constantly made her choices rather clear, and it didn't appear that the gruff woman really cared if she was accepted by anyone else or not. Hurling insults made that pretty plain, even to Yonah's eyes.

She wondered though, what had spurred Kainé to risk her life for someone she really didn't know. Yonah had a vague recollection of hearing about the woman prior to her imprisonment, but the memories of her childhood were hazy, muddled at best. She only had the villager's word to piece together her past. The warrior certainly hadn't made an effort to clear things up, or explain her fervent drive to destroy the Shadowlord. If it weren't for the way she noticed Kainé glancing at her from time to time, when the woman visited, Yonah would have thought that her freedom was merely a side effect from killing her captor, rather than the goal.

Kainé hadn't treated the matter that way though. She'd even granted Yonah something special, the blossom of a Lunar Tear. Something that Yonah had felt she'd been searching for, desiring for a very long time. That same flower currently held a place of honor in her hair, just above her left ear. She made a point to wear it all the time, and kept it safe when she slept. It granted wishes after all, and maybe someday it would find her worthy to grant its favor. So, she would continue to hold it dear, and pray for a happiness. For now, she contented herself with its fragrance that took Kainés place, when the wanderer was elsewhere.


	6. Pride

NieR is Copyright Cavia and Square Enix, 2010. All original characters are property of the author. This is a work for entertainment and no profit will be made. A fiction by Sentionaut.

_Ragged breath, aching legs. Twisting, bending, grasping for purchase, sliding. Flying, falling, pain. Still it comes again, violence and rage made flesh.  
_

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Beneath the Sleeping Moon – Pride

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It was just below, nearly indistinguishable from the boulders it must have been using for respite from the oppressive seasonal heat. Kainé wasn't a patient woman by nature, and hunting anything other than shades required such an attribute. Neither was she stupid, which brought her to the current predicament. Boar hunting.

A dangerous endeavor, given the sheer bulk of the wild beast, and no less for the particular specimen she'd stumbled upon that afternoon. Usually, the things lazed about, resting or sunning themselves as they saw fit. Once in a while, she'd witnessed a pack of shades attack one of the beasts. It was always a sight no matter how it ended. Often the boar would win, scattering the smaller shades like leaves on the wind. Other times, usually when one of the larger shades joined up, the results were less in the animal's favor. When the little ones were armored, the boar fell quickly, unable to simply rend its foes asunder with its sharp tusks.

At the moment, the huntress wasn't concerned with shades. She'd been watchful for nearly half an hour now, not a single cloud in the sky and a sun that beat down on her mercilessly. It was a touch better now that she'd managed to scale up around the rocky outcropping, taking cover beneath two thin trees that swayed faintly when the dry breeze kicked across the plain.

In the past, she wouldn't have needed to resort to biding her time like this, having to make sure nothing was around to interfere. The last thing she wanted was to be interrupted. Or worse, caught off guard in the middle of dealing with the hulking beast below. Before, she'd had other options, a veritable bag of tricks to see her through, courtesy of that louse Tyrran.

Hell, she could have leaped straight up the small outcropping with hardly any effort, or pulled a vanishing act and slipped meters away instantly with minimal thought, much in the same way shades seemed to appear out of thin air. It had been a convenient way to travel, and certainly one of the things she missed. Being human was hard, and being hated regardless, even more so.

But, there was also a freedom that came along with the return of her own body. She could mold it as she saw fit, temper herself against greater odds. Defeating a boar was only one of many first steps on the path she'd set herself down, and it was high time to put her mettle to the test.

Cracking her knuckles, she took the great sawed blades from their place at her hips, and brought them to bear. The metal was warm, though the dulled surface on the sides of each weapon reflected little sunlight. They were meant for rending and tearing flesh, cutting shades in half with a single swipe. These blades weren't fancy, they were fit only for a butcher, made for inspiring bowel churning fear.

The less stupid shades ran when confronted with such things, and others fled simply when they noticed Kainé herself. It was the best sensation, one that tightened her belly. She wanted that feeling when the boar noticed her. No living thing ought stand on its feet in her presence. The fuckers should bow and scrape, scramble to cut their own bellies in supplication. Such an experience would be...she had no ready comparison. The mental image alone sped up her heart rate, and hitched the breath in her throat. Kainé wanted that feeling again, and would do almost anything for it.

Steeling herself, the black gloves on her hands creaked as she loosened her grip slightly, tensing her legs in preparation to leap down and cut the shitty head from the behemoth's body. She was pretty sure it wasn't going to be that easy, but getting in the first few blows was going to be key. Catching big shits, like the boars, by surprise was her best shot at winning a confrontation in her current condition.

Right now, she just needed to fell the beast. There was no such thing as a fair fight, not when it had so much weight and muscle on her. Besides, once it was dead, she could take its tusks and that would go far in solving her transportation problem. Why walk everywhere when there was a better way to travel?

Slowing her breathing, she crouched slightly and was airborne before she could reconsider, blades held high overhead for the heaviest downward swing she could muster. Soundless, a specter of death in flight, that's what she was. Kainé struck the boar's upper back with her knees and lashed down her swords crosswise, fully intent on shearing off the gigantic boar's head. The second she hit, she could tell the angle was all wrong. The beast was already gaining its feet when one blade bounced off the shoulder blade, and the other caught several inches deep, cutting through matted fur and into the first layer of corded muscle that covered its neck.

"You little bitch," she cursed, clamping down hard with her thighs, muscle straining to keep her position as the boar rose, bellowing in surprise and anger. "Where do you think you're going, huh? Just fucking lay back down and die," she spat, sawing the caught blade deeper and swinging the other in an arc to the top of the enraged animal's skull, intent on caving it in one way or the other.

Again, the wild boar was wholly uncooperative, and it moved its bulk forward suddenly, dashing with monstrous force toward another pile of rocks. Kainé was having none of that, and her second blow struck down, clipping the edge of the boar's eye socket. She almost fell backwards then, losing the tenuous grip with her legs as the beastly thing's churning legs roiled the musculature beneath her. The sole saving grace was the sword firmly buried partway into the neck in front of her. However, the weight pulling at her other arm threatened to pull her off toward that side instead.

Before she could regain the advantage her position gave her, beast and rider struck the boulders head on. Kainé jerked forward at the sudden forced stop, tumbling over the boar's head and completely losing her hold on the sword in its neck. There was no time to brace herself as she flew, just barely clearing the top of the massive rock formation. Tumbling in the air, she tried to go limp before her arc ended.

For an all too brief moment, the sensation of flight twisted in her gut, and then it was gone, replaced with the pain of meeting hard packed earth, and the thinnest carpet of grass she could have hoped to find. Something somewhere in her body made a noise she didn't care for, but the pain of landing on her shoulder was far worse, mitigated vaguely by her body continuing to roll. Along the way, her remaining sword slipped from her glove. The absence didn't have time to register, though she distantly thanked her luck that she hadn't landed on the blade itself. Rocks and pebbles were bad enough as it turned out.

Groaning and muttering dangerous words, the lightly dressed warrior struggled to rise, feeling the absolute need to find her feet, and regain her weapon. The boar's had notoriously hard heads, and impossibly thick skulls, so much so that they seemed to make a game of smashing into boulders, and ramming anything hapless enough to stand directly before the damned beasts. Attacking them from their flank was the best bet, as they turned slow enough, but the boars also tended to thrash about, or even simply roll over, easily crushing something as small as a human in the process. Besides, fighting one that way took even longer than her preferred method, which as she'd just proved, was likely a death sentence of a different sort.

Getting to her feet took precious seconds, stretched to longer by mild disorientation. She hadn't just hit her head, she'd struck her whole body. Swaying on her feet, she looked up and realized just how far she'd been tossed. Her left arm dangled uselessly at her side, though it didn't feel broken. Dislocated then, she decided, blinking to clear the fog from her vision. There, a few meters to her right lay her sword sticking halfway, up at an angle, from a thatch of grass.

Landing on that would have gutted her with the way it was resting. She'd suffered worse, but this time, there was no rapid healing to bring her back from the edge of death. "Screw you," she spat in the boar's general direction, as she heard the thud of heavy footfalls begin to round the boulders toward her side. Limping lamely to her fallen weapon, she retrieved it with no little pain, and brought it up. The movement took more effort than she would have liked, and there wasn't time to reset her left arm either. Not before the beast caught sight of her. It was much faster than she'd anticipated. Outrunning it now was definitely not going to end up in her favor.

When the wild boar reappeared, it looked none the worse for wear, despite the hunk of steel jutting from just behind it's head. It chuffed and snorted, blowing foul breath from its nose, though Kainé could only imagine the last as she wasn't close enough to really tell. Though judging from how bad it smelled when she'd been atop the thing, it had to be fetid.

This one had doubtless eaten its own body weight in shades. Now that she was looking at it head on, she could make out scores of scars and slashes across its broad chest where the fur was missing. Such a boar had obviously seen years of combat on the plains, surviving against beast and shade alike. One of its tusks was half gone, an old wound as far as she could tell.

The facts piled up did little to tip the odds in her favor. However a slim chance was still a chance, after all. Gritting her teeth, Kainé made her choice, bolting for the edge of the plateau she'd found the boar milling about on. It wasn't far, and she might even make it before getting trampled. Fleeing for the river was her best bet, though it was going to be a long way down, and taking another fall so soon was going to hurt like hell.

Worse, it meant giving her sword up to the boar, which pissed her off just enough to make sure she came out alive and kicking, just so she could come back and take what was rightfully hers. The ground beneath her feet ran out surprisingly fast. The river grew even quicker, rising up to slap her bodily, as the water's embrace obliterated all thought, the boar forgotten, high above.

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Author's Notes: This brings the prologue full circle, and ends the introduction. The out of sequence nature was how I chose to represent the differing styles of game play within NieR. As such, the next installment will be a return to, more traditional, linear style. I hope readers were able to enjoy the format as presented. Feedback, and constructive criticism are much appreciated. I would certainly like to be able to take reader opinions into consideration for the coming parts of this tale. Thanks for taking the time to read my work.


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